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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28449297">The Language of the Soul</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/rubyisarbitrary/pseuds/rubyisarbitrary'>rubyisarbitrary</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Chronicles of Alice and Ivy - Kellyn Roth</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bachelorhood, Bibia Be Ye Ye, Bibia Be Ye Ye Ed Sheeran, F/M, Jordy is kinda an idiot, Jordy is living once, Jordy/Ivy angst, Jordy/Ivy fluff, Medical Degree, YOLO, enjoy life, pre-Ivy days, song based challenge, song based snippets, we love our idiot, what will be will be</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 22:20:22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,084</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28449297</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/rubyisarbitrary/pseuds/rubyisarbitrary</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Music is the language of the soul.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jordy McAllen/Ivy Knight, Jordy McAllen/Ivy McAllen, Jordy McAllen/Original Characters</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Bibia Be Ye Ye</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>
      <span>I was tired and fell asleep beneath an oak tree</span>
    </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>
      <span>I bet my mother's proud of me from each scar</span>
    </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>
      <span>Upon my knuckle and each graze upon my knee</span>
    </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jordy ran fast, faster, faster, his head down and his legs churning, but he could never beat Tris. Tris was his height, his weight, and just a bit slimmer in the shoulders than him, but he could run like the devil was after him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Over the finish line they’d set, Jordy placed his hands on his legs and panted. “Best two outta three, mate?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Eejit, never.” Tris flopped down on the damp moss of the hillside, panting. He ran fast, aye, but never more than a few paces before he collapsed. Jordy could always beat him when it came to stamina. “I won once. Inna give ye a chance tae beat me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jordy scoffed. “‘Cause I’d win.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mebby. Mebby no’.” Tris would not be budged. Jordy knew that, so he collapsed next to him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, never ye mind.” Jordy shifted his shoulders to avoid a jagged rock betwixt them. “I’ll show ye next time, Tris. I will.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sure an’ ye will.” He grinned at the sky, heaved out a deep sigh. “Ye could never stick tae anythin’, Jordy.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nah, he couldn’t, but that didn’t mean Tris could get away with that comment. He rolled over and pummelled him good.</span>
</p><p> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>
      <span>I get lonely and make mistakes from time to time</span>
    </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p> </p><p>
  <span>She was sweet and kind and lovely, and she reminded him of home. He’d promised his father and Dr. McCale to never touch a woman, but she tempting, and she promised it wouldn’t matter.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t much to worry about. As long as no one found out, it didn’t matter.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Afterwards, straightening his clothing and brushing hay off his clothes, he regretted it. He understand why he wasn’t supposed to. He understood that he should have waited until he was older, smarter, wiser …</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Until he loved her, maybe. Until he didn’t have to just awkwardly apologize, assure her he would do what he could to take care of her—</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She laughed. That was something silly to say, and he felt ashamed. He shouldn’t have touched her because he clearly didn’t know the rules of the game yet.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His father had been right. Dr. McCale had never been right. And he promised himself to never, ever touch a girl again. Not unless he had the right to, not even if she gave explicit permission and encouragement.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Never, ever …</span>
</p><p> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>
      <span>I remember less and less and mostly things that I regret</span>
    </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>
      <span>In my phone are several texts, from girls I've never met</span>
    </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then there was college.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It became easy then. He would never hurt a woman, ever, but if she were willing, and he was quite sure she was just looking for fun, and he used his new medical knowledge to keep them both safe, well …</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She’d never been with a Scotsman, she said. She liked his accent. She could teach him things, things that would make him better.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The promises made to his father and Dr. McCale, of a God who loved him became a distant dream. He didn’t want that—he was just having a little fun.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And he didn’t always take the women he spent time with to bed. He wasn’t the type of man who seduced or forced; he sometimes just spent time with ladies because he liked to, and he certainly didn’t expect favors.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Just he didn’t turn them down when they were offered.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was a good man. He respected women, a thousand times more than his classmates, and he took care of them. He lived a clean life, he arrived at every class on time and ready to learn, and he studied hard—his fun was well-balanced with his work.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So why did he feel so empty?</span>
</p><p> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>
      <span>And in the pocket of my jeans are only coins and broken dreams</span>
    </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>
      <span>My heart is breaking at the seams and I'm coming apart now</span>
    </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p> </p><p>
  <span>He lay on his back in his dorm room. He’d promised a girl he barely knew to meet her at a public dance. He didn’t want to go.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He always wanted to go. What was wrong with him? He wanted to have fun. To dance and drink and enjoy life so that he could have a reason for the work he must do in between just enjoyments.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Yet tonight, he lay there and heard the church bells ringing down the street, and tears started. He never cried.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He dashed them away and made his hands into fists and told himself to calm down. But he couldn’t, and he forgot all about the dance and got out of bed and dug through his things.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He found it tucked under one of his first year medicine books. A worn Bible, his father’s childish handwriting under the cover. He traced his fingers over the faded pen marks and flipped forward.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At some point that night, Jordy started crying again, but this time he let himself.</span>
</p><p> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>
      <span>And say you're with me, tomorrow's a brand new day</span>
    </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p> </p><p>
  <span>He came home to McCale House on break that year. He didn’t have enough time to rush home, though he would at Christmas—it’d been almost a year since he’d been home.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I need tae talk tae ye, in private, when we can,” he said. His voice was soft, and he knew he sounded like a whupped pup, but he couldn’t help it. That’s how he felt. Like there was no tomorrow, nothing but the guilt he felt. For he had strayed far from the teachings of his boyhood, and there was no going back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>What was gone was gone. There were things he couldn’t forget, couldn’t unlearn. There were firsts he couldn’t have back—a lot of firsts.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A’right.” Dr. McCale looked at him oddly and went back about his day, forcing Jordy to wait in abject grief.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That evening, Jordy went to his office. The words poured out, explaining what he’d done and how many times, how he’d failed as a man, as a Christian.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dr. McCale listened and nodded and made the occasional comment or asked a clarifying question. There was no judgment on his face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jordy?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wha’?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are ye really sorry for all ye’ve done?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Aye.” He’d never been so sorry!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are ye ready tae turn th’ page? Start a new chapter where that isna a part o’ yer life?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He took a deep breath. “Aye. But it’ll always be a part o’ me, ken, an’—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Never mind tha’. Ye make decisions for th’ future, no’ th’ past, son.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I ken tha’, but—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But nothin’. It’s nothin’ tae worry about. Let’s see about findin’ ways tae move on an’ become a better Jordy McAllen, aye?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Aye.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Can't Stop The Feeling</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em> I got this feeling inside my bones </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p> </p><p>Where had that leggy little girl gone? She’d been thirteen when he’d seen her last, hadn’t he? Teetering on the edge of womanhood, a lovely young lady, but nothing like this.</p><p> </p><p>Nothing like this angel walking on earth.</p><p> </p><p>He stared, and he stared, and he never quiet adjusted to her. For this was Ivy, and she was inexplicably beautiful.</p><p> </p><p>Not only was she beautiful, but she was the Ivy of his childhood, but older, wiser, cleverer, infinitely more interesting. The kind of woman that made a man wild and tame all at once.</p><p> </p><p>If ever he had felt the old stirring of his blood, it was now. He hadn’t known he could want anything as much as he wanted her.</p><p> </p><p>But he had a past, and he’d made a promise, a second promise, one he actually wanted to keep for reasons beyond avoiding his father’s anger. And he couldn’t have her, no matter how much he craved her presence, her conversation, her beauty.</p><p> </p><p>He couldn’t have her.</p><p> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em> I got that sunshine in my pocket </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em> Got that good song in my feet </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em> I feel that hot blood in my body when it drops </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p> </p><p>Spending time with her was agony and a gift. He loved it, but there was a part of him that blared a warning. She was like a sweet, and he felt strongly that some day he ought to be getting too much of her. But he couldn’t.</p><p> </p><p>He didn’t tell her he wanted her, of course, because that wouldn’t be right. He would never burden her with what was simply shameful, dirty attraction. It had nothing to do with her personality …</p><p> </p><p>Right?</p><p> </p><p>This wasn’t love. It couldn’t be love. He couldn’t let it be love. Not with him. He wouldn’t be good for her, couldn’t keep her safe, couldn’t treasure her the way she deserved.</p><p> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em> Under the lights when everything goes </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em> Nowhere to hide when I'm getting you close </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em> When we move, well, you already know </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em> So just imagine, just imagine, just imagine </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p> </p><p>He’d made the mistake of asking her to dance, and she was like magic when she moved. A veritable symphony—there, and now she was making him poetic.</p><p> </p><p>She danced with the passion of someone who didn’t care what the world thought and never would. She danced with the passion of someone who gave herself fully to the music, to the moment.</p><p> </p><p>Nothing could be more lovely than that.</p><p> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em> Ooh, it's something magical </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em> It's in the air, it's in my blood, it's rushing on </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em> I don't need no reason, don't need control </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em> I fly so high, no ceiling, when I'm in my zone </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p> </p><p>Around and around. He felt nothing but her. Saw nothing but her. And he didn’t want to, ever again, for the rest of his life.</p><p> </p><p>For once, faithfulness felt possible, because how could he break away from this feeling? It was almost a curse, almost hypnotism.</p><p> </p><p>He was falling in love.</p><p> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em> Nothing I can see but you when you dance, dance, dance </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em> Feeling good, good, creeping up on you </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em> So just dance, dance, dance, come on </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em> All those things I should do to you </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em> But you dance, dance, dance </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em> And ain't nobody leaving soon, so keep dancing </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p> </p><p>“Marry me.”</p><p> </p><p>How had those words left his lips? He’d asked Ivy Knight to marry him. He couldn’t do that. He couldn’t marry her. What would she say to that? She knew who she was—he’d told her all the facts.</p><p> </p><p>She couldn’t want him. She couldn’t. And now he’d gone and confessed his love, and she’d laugh. He didn’t mind being the butt of a joke, but he admitted, when paired with a proposal, it was somewhat humiliating.</p><p> </p><p>But beyond the humiliating, he couldn’t live the rest of his life without her. This wasn’t just lust—this was love. And how could he do without this feeling?</p><p> </p><p>“Yes. Of course, Jordy. Yes!”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The quotes are from Can't Stop This Feeling, featured in the Trolls movies. I used the official Justin Timberlake version for the actual lyrics. Please do not quote these lyrics without proper attribution.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Top of the World</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>
      <span>Tell me we don't have to leave</span>
    </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>
      <span>Say we can stay forever</span>
    </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>
      <span>That we can always be</span>
    </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>
      <span>Just me and you together</span>
    </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>
      <span>'Cause this moment is all that I want</span>
    </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p> </p><p>
  <span>The best feeling in the world was knowing that he didn’t have to let her go. Ever.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Usually Jordy wouldn’t have taken pleasure in that. Usually he would have wanted to get away, to fly off, to find a place where responsibility didn’t plague him. Usually he would have wanted to run as far as he could from the place where he was required to be Ivy’s one and only forever.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But this felt good. It felt right, and Jordy was all for pursuing what, for inexplicable reasons, felt right. It was, in his opinion, the place where God and man met and instructions were given.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He brought her home to Keefmore and set up a cottage, and they had their own little castle away from everyone. As far as he was concerned, this could be their home forever.</span>
</p><p> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>
      <span>Standing on top of the world</span>
    </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>
      <span>Hands up in the air feeling so alive</span>
    </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>
      <span>Screaming at the top of our lungs</span>
    </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>
      <span>To the rhythm of my heartbeat beating tonight</span>
    </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p> </p><p>
  <span>They walked together almost every day above Keefmore, up into the moors, to watch sunrises and sunsets and talk and talk until surely, surely there’d be nothing left to talk about—but there always was something.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>If she had taught him to want forever, he taught her to embrace change, excitement, differences. To throw herself into life, even into the simplest factors of life.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He never thought he’d convince her to dive into that loch, but he did, and she laughed, and it was perfect.</span>
</p><p> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>
      <span>Your eyes are my sunrise here</span>
    </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p> </p><p>
  <span>She was his everything, and he willingly promised forever, again and again every day.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Quotes taken from the song Top of the World by Anthem Lights.</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Song lyrics from Bibia Be Ye Ye, performed by Ed Sheeran. I do not own these lyrics and am simply quoting them. Please do not quote these lyrics without proper credit.</p><p>Not currently canon, but I believe Jordy probably messed around a lot in his younger days, and I tried to think what his reactions would be.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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